


Lars's Journal

by BarracudaHeart, CoreyWW



Series: Attic Crawl Series [2]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Depression, Diary/Journal, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Family Drama, Guilt, High School, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, POV First Person, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Psychology, Sad, Sequel, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarracudaHeart/pseuds/BarracudaHeart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoreyWW/pseuds/CoreyWW
Summary: "I kinda thought writing a journal would help me feel better, like ... getting all this bad crap out of me. But reading it now, it just seems like every day gets worse and worse."





	1. Things Are Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to the story [Attic Crawl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757047/chapters/17688178). Though it is not FULLY required to get everything that is going on, it is highly recommended to read that first.
> 
> (Trigger Warning: Heavy themes of suicide and suicidal thoughts.)

I made a cup of coffee.

“What the hell am I doing with my life?” I said.

Then I drank the coffee.

This is how I start the day.

* * *

I walked to work. I don’t own a car. I tell people it’s because I don’t have the money, but really it’s because I feel like a nervous wreck whenever I try to drive.

It took like a half-hour to get there.

I almost got hit by a car crossing the street.

Whatever.

* * *

Sadie was already at work when I got there today.

“You’re late,” she said, like she was disappointed.

I shrugged. She shot me a glare.

I think we were mad at eachother this week or something.

It’s hard to keep track sometimes.

* * *

A customer gave me an attitude this afternoon. I ended up yelling and Sadie whispered for me to go in the breakroom to cool off.

I did, quietly hating myself for needing to do that so often. I wondered why I can’t just be like a normal goddamn person for once and--

Sadie walked back a few minutes after that and it was only then that I realized I was crying.

She asked if I was okay. I don’t know what my answer was.

“It’s okay,” she said. I couldn’t even look at her. She gave me a hug, I was still crying.

Somehow we end up kissing. I’m not sure who started it.

About fifteen minutes later, the front door dinged and we straightened our clothes out and walked out like nothing happened.

We didn’t acknowledge it for the rest of the day.

I’m not sure how I feel about any of that.

* * *

Tonight at closing time Sadie asked if wanted to come over.

I thought about what happened yesterday and freaked myself out, so I said no.

She gave me this look like I said it to hurt her feelings. She asked if anything was wrong, I said no, she asked why I was acting weird, I said I wasn’t, we end up yelling and we both stormed off.

I know no matter what I had decided to do, I would have felt like an asshole either way.

* * *

I got home while my parents were having dinner. They asked me to sit down.

I said no and went to my room.

I laid in bed with my eyes shut for God knows how long.

When I went downstairs again, my parents were gone and dinner was still on the table, cold.

The clock said 12:30 AM.

* * *

I missed school again today.

Whatever.

* * *

I put my hand over the coil of the stove a couple minutes after I finished cooking dinner on it.

Nothing on the outside, nothing on the inside.

* * *

I took a bath today instead of a shower because the nozzle was broken.

I ended up being so tired from work I fell asleep in the water, and only woke up because Mom knocked on the door.

What would have happened if she didn't?

* * *

I was too tired to go to work. I didn't even call in sick.

Sadie called me halfway through the day. We started yelling cause she thought I was being lazy.

I'm not fucking lazy. If I was I'd have all the energy in the world, but have no plan to even use it.

* * *

I hate my family so much sometimes. They tried to rag on me about my grades again.

If I tell them I've been skipping school to get more hours at my job, they'll make me quit.

If Sadie finds out I've been missing school for work, she'll think I'm stupid.

I literally can't win.

* * *

I'm allergic to the new plant my mom bought.

Maybe I can get rid of it without her noticing.

* * *

She caught me trying to stuff it in the compost and now I'm grounded for a week.

She told me if I was allergic I should have said so.

But I know she probably would have picked the plant over me.

* * *

Ronaldo came in at work today, and he wouldn't stop talking to Sadie, and now I have to handle his stupid weird face in my head for days.

I don't want to try and get any closure with him. I just want the whole thing to drop and for him to just leave me the hell alone.

* * *

I know I'm not stupid. My teachers think I am anyway.

Yesterday we had a substitute in math class who gave us a word problem that our other teacher provided. I got it right and the substitute said I was wrong and the class laughed at me.

Today our teacher came back and gave us the answer and I was right. Nobody in the class said anything though. They didn't even admit that they were all wrong. They KNEW I was right and they don't even care!

School is nothing but a popularity contest. Teachers have their favorite students and I'm not one of them.

* * *

If I'm on a game show, and I’m given the choice of three doors: Behind one door is a car; behind the others, goats. I pick a door, say No. 1, and the host, who knows what's behind the doors, opens another door, say No. 3, which has a goat. He then asks me, "Do you want to pick door No. 2?" Would it be to my advantage to switch from the first door to the second?

I would switch, because I have a ⅔ chance of winning the car if I switch, but only ⅓ chance if I stay with my choice.

This solution works so long as the host picks a door that I didn't pick, there's a goat behind the door, and that I'm given the option to switch.

Here's the thing, I didn't even have to sweat to figure out the answer. I've heard this problem before. It's one of the oldest brain teasers out there and it still gets people fucking it up.

My whole class did. Even my substitute teacher.

Well, they can have fun with their goddamn goats while I'm driving a new car.

* * *

I feel really dumb having made a whole page for that crap the other day. Maybe I was just really steamed that nobody could believe I was fucking right for once.

I showed my mom and dad the problem and neither of them got it either. And now I kind of hate them right now, which is really stupid.

I wrecked my whole week over this problem.

Fuck Monty Hall.

* * *

I can't even prove I'm not stupid to people. They're already convinced I am.

Maybe I should just stop trying.

* * *

I think I like writing more when I'm feeling shitty, but it's also kind of killing the Hemingway vibe I was trying to get with this journal.

Whatever. It's not like anyone will read it.

* * *

I don't actually think I have a talent in anything. At least nothing people care about.

Culinary school is too expensive, and I don't want to ask my parents, especially since they already know I suck at high school and would probably suck worse in college.

Well, actually, scratch that. I could do fantastic in a place like that. Some place where I get to study and grow on what I want and not end up being told to sit down, shut up, and listen to things I couldn't care less about.

But I don't even know if anyone could believe I could actually thrive like that. Or if I can thrive at all.

* * *

I wish I could hang out with my friends more but I don't know if they like hanging out with me to begin with. I mean, they're all older than me. I'm still a kid compared to them.

Heck, Sadie is a year older than me. I'm a baby compared to Buck or Jenny or Sour Cream.

How come an even bigger baby like Steven can get on their good side so easy and I'm tearing myself up to even get them to talk to me?

* * *

Everything in my body hurts right now.

* * *

I woke up super late again on accident. Sadie kept calling me so I turned my phone off.

If I answer, she's gonna call me lazy again, I just know it.

* * *

I think I slept late because of one of the freaky dreams I had.

I kinda have this irrational fear of boarded-up walls and windows on old buildings. They just unsettle me.

Anyway, I had a dream about them on some scary old hospital at night. It was super dark and I kept hearing noises.

For some reason I kept walking towards it, trying to get inside, but I really didn't want to.

It was a pretty scary dream.

* * *

Something is really wrong with me.

* * *

I think it has to do with the entry in my mom's journal about her having worked on a short circuiting microwave while she was pregnant with me.

Microwaves can mess up brain waves.

* * *

I feel bad that I don't like my name, especially since my mom picked it after her dead brother.

But Laramie? Come on.

* * *

I wonder whatever happened to that baby mom had before me.

I kinda hope their life sucks as much as mine so then we'd have something in common.

* * *

I’m a fucking idiot.

Okay, so we had a math test today. I felt shitty today, as usual, but it wasn’t a big deal ...

But then that stupid game show word problem from last week ended up on there.

So I didn’t know whether to put what I knew the right answer was or the wrong answer everyone except me THOUGHT was right. Then I got so frustrated remembering all that that I just decided “Fuck it, I’m screwed anyway, so it doesn’t matter what I put.”

So at the end of the problem when it asked “Would it be to my advantage to switch from the first door to the second?” that’s pretty much the answer I put:

“It doesn’t matter because nothing ever works to my advantage anyway.”

I didn’t even really try passing the rest of the test, I was so messed up over something that stupid. I probably failed it.

I don’t know why I even bother in the first place.

* * *

Okay ...

So we got our tests back and that problem was circled with a big “See me after class” written on it.

My teacher asked if that answer was supposed to be a joke. I didn’t say much of anything. They asked if I was going through a rough period right now. I still didn’t say anything cause I felt like it didn’t matter what I said. They already think I’m stupid, so nothing I say or do matters.

They said they sent a letter to my parents saying they should have a talk soon.

That gets my attention.

I’m so freaked out I cut school to get home to try to get to the mail first.

Didn’t work. Mom and Dad weren’t in the kitchen when I came in, but the mail was already on the counter. The letter from my school was open. I read it, hoping it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

And it wasn’t.

It was worse.

Lots of stuff about my school being “concerned” I’m not applying myself, not responding to “support” from the faculty, missing classes ...

It ends by suggesting I might be more comfortable in a “remedial environment.”

I heard Mom and Dad in the other room talking. My mom said something like “You’re not seriously suggesting that, are you?”

And my Dad said, “Well ... it’s worth thinking about, I mean--”

I didn’t stick around to hear the rest. I ran out, hoping they didn’t hear the door slam behind me.

I didn’t go to work. I just kind of wandered around. I felt like I was in a daze. I ended up at that cliff where that weird moss almost killed me once.

I like the view.

When it got dark, I was too scared to go home. I was worried what Mom and Dad would say when they saw me.

I thought about calling Ronaldo to talk, but I chickened out every time I tried. So I ended up calling Sadie really late. She started yelling at me for cutting work and I ended up breaking down crying over everything. She stopped and asked what was wrong.

I asked if I could just come over.

She said that was fine, that her mom was out of town.

I ended up going over, knowing full well what would end up happening and that after I’d feel like a piece of garbage who uses people, but I didn’t even give a shit, I just needed _someone_ to talk to.

And, you know, afterwards when she fell asleep I did feel just as bad as I thought I would. So I snuck out and went back home. It was almost five in the morning by then. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. I was too busy thinking about ... well. _Everything_.

I ended up reading through my journal so far. It’s just filled with bad stuff.

I kinda thought writing a journal would help me feel better, like ... getting all this bad crap out of me. But reading it now, it just seems like every day gets worse and worse. I've gotten so tired, and that it's a kind of tired no amount of sleep can fix. I'm sinking into a hole I can't get out of...

I’m done.

It’s like six now. And I’ve decided I’m done. I’m gonna leave the house before Mom and Dad wake up and I’m just gonna leave this journal on the counter. I figure they at least deserve an explanation.

I tried to think of meaningful shit to say about Sadie and Ronaldo and Steven but I ended up just bawling when I thought too much about it, so ... all I can really say is I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, everyone.

* * *

_God dammit_.

Someone left this in my hospital room. I haven’t talked to anyone yet, so I’m not sure how it got here. I can’t exactly walk around to ask someone because my legs and back hurt like shit.

This is bullshit.

... I am gonna be so pissed when I found out who called an ambulance.


	2. Thing are Weird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger Warning: Referenced attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts)

I've got at least a half year of physical therapy for my legs and at least five for my back. They don't know how I'm not paralyzed. I don't know either.

They've put me on three different medications for the pain, and it's still agonizing to even sit up. I can hardly eat anything with my hands, since my wrists are all bruised up from the fall, and they won't even let me use forks or knives, thinking I'll try to hurt myself with them. They gave me a pencil though ... their logic is weird.

The doctor was saying something about psychiatric therapy to my parents.  I have no idea what that means for me.

Nobody's come in the room but I can hear my parents talking outside. My mom's crying. I think she read my journal; she was talking about it a little.

I wonder if she's crying over me or over how much this probably cost them; the ambulance and medical care and everything.

The doctor just told my parents that most of this isn't covered by our insurance. Mom said something about selling her yarn shop. Dad might hold off retirement.

I should have just died.

* * *

I woke up to my mom petting my hair. I tried to pretend I was still asleep, but she caught me.

She said that she and Dad love me. And that I don't have to take remedial classes.

I don't have to go to school at all right now, because of all this.

I'm sorry.

* * *

I guess my mom has been reading this journal too, since she panicked over the last entries.

I'm not going to kill myself again, at least not for a long time. I'd feel bad about leaving my family in worse debt if they had to fund a funeral too.

Too guilty to live, too guilty to die, what else is there?

Stop reading this Mom. That's all I ask.

* * *

Sadie visited today.

I don't know how else to tell her this wasn't her fault in a way that she'd believe.

She wasn't even angry at me. She just seemed sad.

She thinks we need to take a break from each other.

She's probably right.

* * *

They won't let me go home.

* * *

I was eating breakfast with my mom and then just woke up with a bunch of doctors around me and my mom crying. Everything in my body hurts really badly.

They won't tell me anything. For God's sake, don't leave me out of this.

* * *

Apparently I had a seizure. They don't know why, but it explains why everything hurts.

Violent shaking of broken limbs is a very bad thing. Keep that noted.

* * *

I had another seizure last night and they're running tests today.

Kind of hoping it's a brain tumor that they can just rip out of me, so then I can have some sort of explanation as to why I'm so screwed up.

And hey, maybe after they rip it out I'll be smart and go to NASA.

Ha.

* * *

They ran tests and it wasn't a brain tumor or epilepsy or anything like that. They think it's one of the medications I'm on.

It's got pretty sick side effects. I wound up with violent convulsions when I could have gotten one of the cooler ones like hallucinations or a fuzzy tongue.

Damn.

* * *

I haven't had any more seizures since they took me of that one medicine, which is good I guess.

I think my parents are still worried about actually talking to me.

They haven't even asked me why I did it.

Maybe they already know.

* * *

VERY OFF TOPIC OF THIS JOURNAL BUT A BIRD THE SIZE OF A BUTTERBALL TURKEY JUST HIT MY WINDOW AND I'M BOTH LAUGHING AND CRYING.

WHAT ARE THESE PILLS THEY GAVE ME.

* * *

I slept most of today. I feel pretty rested and I think my mom was happy seeing me try to sit up.

* * *

I kind of wish I could retake that test. I'd known most of the answers.

I could have maybe gotten a C+.

* * *

Ronaldo visited today. He looked like he was a nervous wreck coming in. With how long I've been in here, who knows how long he debated over coming to see me.

It wasn't that bad actually. We didn't even talk about me being a basket case or suicide or anything. We just talked about movies or some shit and then he left.

It felt so weird, having all this shit still unsettled between us, and we were totally cool with small talk.

Maybe I was just getting lonely enough.

* * *

I'm going home tomorrow. They told me I'd have to take it easy and stay off my feet.

That's gonna be particularly hard considering it's still too painful for me to stand, and my house is super unfriendly to wheelchairs. What am I gonna do? Have my parents carry me up and down the stairs?

* * *

... apparently that _was_ the plan.

Great.

* * *

Steven came in my room last night and said he could heal me or something. Then he rubbed a whole bunch of spit on me and I had to yell at him to knock it the fuck off.  That kid has no understanding of personal space.

* * *

The last two days have been pretty fucked.

Before I left the hospital, the doctors did another x-ray on me and all my broken bones and scratches and scar tissue are gone. Like, literally fucking gone. Like they never were even there.

They tried to get me to walk, but my legs still hurt so much. They still do. I don't even know if I can feel them at all.

They checked for further spine damage and there was none.

Before they got me out to the car, I heard the doctor tell my parents my inability to walk is probably psychosomatic.

I'm not fucking faking this. If I could walk, I damn well would.

* * *

My parents are still going to take me to physical therapy in a couple of days, hoping it might improve my legs and spine, or at least send my brain the message it needs to see I'm fine.

I tried to will away the stupid thoughts that kept me from walking but it wasn't any use. I fell out of my chair.

It's like the same thoughts that convinced me to try and kill myself. They stay whether you like it or not.

* * *

My physical therapist said I'm not the first psychosomatic patient she's had. That's hardly uplifting but I don't feel like a complete nutcase anymore at least.

She says the best way to deal with my symptoms is to treat them as best we can the same way she would treat someone with physical injury.

It involves a lot of stretching and exercising and it's a huge pain.

But at least I can go straight home afterwards and not school.

* * *

I sort of wish people would stop visiting me like I'm on my death bed or that I'm going to explode and die if they breathe on me wrong.

The cool kids visited today, and it was worse than eggshells. They just all had these concerned and worried looks and it just bugged the hell out of me. And the tone they talked with was even worse. Gag me with a spoon.

* * *

I miss Sadie.

* * *

I overheard my mom talking to my dad about visiting her brother. I guess that means the cemetery.

I don't think she's visited there in years.

I wonder if I should go with her.

* * *

My dad tried to cook breakfast for me. Tried.

I stuck with cereal.

He just looked glad to see I was eating.

* * *

Mom seemed kind of nervous about me asking if I could go with her to visit uncle Laramie.

But she's letting me go anyway. Cool.

* * *

Walking is still tough even with the progress I've made in therapy, so I took the wheelchair to the cemetery.

It was pretty nice, I guess. Not old and run down or anything. Lots of flowers and stuff.

My uncle's spot was kind of plain, but Mom had picked flowers from the back yard. She put them on there after she cleaned the stone off and got the dirt out from the Star of David.

I still can't believe how young he was. I asked Mom in the car about it and she said he'd skipped grades because he'd been so smart.

She didn't say anything to me while we were in front of his grave though. She didn't even look at me. Even when I asked stuff.

I was kind of weirded out by it until we passed by the part of the cemetery where all the really little kids are. Babies who didn't make it and stuff. I think she was looking at my uncle's name on the grave and just thinking of me.

I wish I could tell her that I'm really sorry. But I don't think it would change anything.

* * *

Ronaldo texted me, asking me if I wanted to go see the sci-fi presentation at the planetarium. I couldn't go because I have my first meeting with a therapist and I'm actually kind of mad.

For once I'm so damn starved of socializing that I'm willing to do it with Ronaldo Fucking Fryman.

* * *

Ronaldo actually came over today, said he wanted to visit since I couldn’t make the show. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. It was mostly more small talk BS but it was something.

Felt pretty good till I started thinking the only reason he did that is cause I almost died.

Guess this whole time if I wanted a social life I just had to try to kill myself. Who knew.

(... that was a joke, Mom, if you’re reading this. I was joking.)

* * *

My mom seemed super weird this morning. I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence, but I know it’s cause she read what I wrote.

Guess she didn’t think the joke was funny.

* * *

You know what, I thought about watching what I say on here since I know my mom is reading this sometimes (maybe Dad too, I’m not sure), but then I realized fuck it, this is my journal, I should be able to say whatever I want! My mom did tons of that in her diaries so I should be able to do it in mine!

I mean, fuck, don’t I deserve privacy?! I think I do! **Holy shit!**

My back hurts and I’m tired, I need a nap.

* * *

Alright so um ... I kinda wrote that last bit after I’d taken some of my meds and it made me feel a little weird.

And I mentioned that I had read my mom’s diaries before. And um ... my mom sorta didn’t know that?

But she does now cause she saw that.

Like she wasn’t _mad_ or anything. It was a little worse than that. She seemed embarrassed. Like blushing and everything. She could hardly look at me.

I ... thiiiiink it might mainly be because she remembers the stuff she wrote about her and Vidalia in there.

So yeah ...

That’s a thing that happened.

* * *

I just realized earlier in this journal I mentioned the kid my mom gave up, which I only knew about from those journals. I never caught that till now. I guess my mom didn’t either because it seems like she’s avoiding me.

Like not in the “I’m mad at you” kinda way, like the sorta “I feel sick with myself” kinda way. I know the difference because I feel that way.

A lot.

And I made my mom feel like that.

Fuck.

* * *

I stood up from bed today for like half a second before I lost my balance. At least that means my spine isn't completely wrecked.

* * *

When jumping off a cliff there's at least 100 ways to land that would have killed me for sure, I'm guessing. There's maybe about three wouldn’t have.

I wonder which of the three I was.

* * *

Mom's crying in the other room, I can hear her.

I didn't want this to happen. I just didn't want her to feel lonely going to see her brother.

I hate hearing her cry.

* * *

Holy shit.

I wanted to go into the other room to see my mom and I didn't even realize I'd gotten off the wheelchair and was using my legs.

My mom freaked out, and it took me a second to realize why.

I'm back to sitting now, but I can wiggle my toes and stuff, so I hope I can stand up again.

My legs itch.

* * *

Mom said she's sorry for avoiding me. She just got worked up about the cemetery and me joking about killing myself. It pushed her over the edge.

I pushed her over the edge.

Even when she's apologizing I feel guilty.

* * *

I want to call Sadie but she's probably working double in my absence.

* * *

I wonder who actually called the ambulance. Or found me.

* * *

Ronaldo came back today, and we went outside my neighborhood for a walk. I'm walking but it's still super wobbly so I leaned on him the whole time and hobbled like some old man.

I probably looked stupid but I didn't fall down at least.

Ronaldo has really nice arm muscles. I could feel them while we were walking.

Also, I think he uses the same body spray I used to wear.

Not that I smelled it or anything. It's just a guess.

Before he left today, he gave me a hug for whatever reason. He's got a really really soft body. It kind of felt nice.

He better not hug me ever fucking again I fucking hate him fuck fuck fuck.

* * *

THAT WAS THE PILLS, I KNOW IT. ALL OF THAT LAST ENTRY WAS THE PILLS. ALL OF THAT WAS BULLSHIT, GODDAMMIT, I DON'T HAVE A THING FOR RONALDO FRYMAN.

* * *

I uh ... had really weird dreams last night. Like teenage dreams.

There was a lot of pretty telling stuff in them.

Like mostly that I'm not 100% straight, and that I'm now never going to sleep again at the risk of dreaming of Ronaldo not wearing pants again.

* * *

I'm gonna stop talking about Ronaldo now before I go ballistic.

* * *

I finally asked my mom who called the ambulance for me. She just sort of went quiet and said she didn't know.

But something tells me she does.

* * *

Dad took me out for a drive today. He told me I need to give my mom some time to get her bearings together before she tells me about all the details I want to know.

I guess she gets fatigued a lot.

Runs in the family.

* * *

Our Rabbi came by earlier today to ask me if I needed any further counseling regarding suicidal thoughts.

  1. How the fuck did he know about this? I hardly think my family practices the faith enough for him to give a shit. And it's only my mom really. We hardly ever go to services.  It's a long fucking drive, 40 minutes, and I'm only going if they have free potluck brunch.
  2. Even if this rabbi is a nice enough guy, he's super fucking old, smells like cottage cheese, and every time I've talked with him he thinks my name is Larry. I can't take my own thoughts seriously if I'm talking to someone like that.



I faked being sick and my mom told him no. The cottage cheese still lingers in the air.

* * *

Ok, I guess some lady who goes to my mom's yarn shop overheard my mom talking on the phone to my dad about me and she also goes to the same synagogue. Not sure how the hell she knew about any of this, but she said something to my Mom about how I needed to have more faith or something.

I've never seen mom so mad.

* * *

She's yelling over the phone and now I'm pretty sure someone is gonna die.

* * *

This morning, Mom made me breakfast. She said she knows who called the ambulance for me and that we're meeting them for coffee this weekend.

Ok then.

* * *

I feel like I don't tell my parents I love them enough.

I wish I could feel ok without saying it, like they just could know it.

But I guess I've been shitty enough they don't know that for sure.

* * *

Last night I got up to take a piss, then I flopped back down in bed.

It took me a minute to realize walking didn’t hurt at all when I did that. And when I did I got so freaked I couldn’t get back to sleep.

It’s gone back to hurting some, but not like before.

* * *

We’re meeting whoever called the ambulance tomorrow.

Mom is acting super weird.

At first I thought it was because of something I did. I said I was sorry but she kept saying I didn’t do anything wrong. She kept saying she was fine.

But she seemed zoned out the whole day and jittery and ...

It just feels different.

My back hurt a little more today, but I feel like it was just nerves. Still better than it was.

Hopefully it stays that way.

* * *

Going to meet that person now. Mom’s barely said two words the whole day.

This is super weird.

* * *

Holy shit. I mean ...

_Holy shit._

... I think I need time to get myself together before I write down what happened. I don’t want to forget anything.

... Holy _shit_.

* * *

Okay, so like ...

We met at some coffee shop just outside of town (it wasn’t another Big Donut, thank-fucking-God). Nothing fancy, just some indie type place that seemed like the type of thing Mom would be into.

So ... I don’t know what I expected the person we were meeting to be like? But whatever I was picturing wasn’t what I got.

She was some really buff, punk rock looking girl. Pink hair, piercings, all that. I guess she was in her ... twenties or something? Mid to late twenties? It was hard to tell. Definitely a little older than me though.

Even before we sat down it was awkward because of how Mom was acting. I’m not sure why, but she looked pale the second she saw the girl.

“Uh ... are you okay?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” my mom whispered back, nodding.

But she didn’t look me in the eye when she said it.

Mom walked up to the lady. The lady was pretty weird too. She clearly noticed us walk up, but she didn’t get our attention or anything ...

“It’s ... good to see you,” my mom said. Way too polite. Way too awkward.

Mom doesn’t act this way around strangers.

No part of this was how she acted normally.

I’m an idiot and even I could tell something was up.

The girl didn’t answer, just gave kind of a nod to my mom. She looked at me though and seemed to ... I guess perk up a bit? Well, maybe that’s the wrong word. She didn’t act as cold.

Her name was Sheena. She said it was good to see me and that I was walking.

She happened to be riding her motorcycle when I jumped off the cliff. She said it scared her out of her mind, but she was able to call an ambulance right away.

If she knew I threw myself off the cliff on purpose, she didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t ask me any questions about _that_. I actually liked that.

I liked talking to her. She seemed pretty warm talking to me too.

But towards Mom ... Sheena barely acknowledged her the whole time. And my mom didn’t speak up much or anything, just sat there, watching the two of us. Her eyes seemed like they were on the floor the whole time.

As outspoken as my mom is, it was ... unsettling.

Eventually, after Sheena finished telling the story of when the ambulance came, my mom spoke up.

“Thank you ... Sheena,” she said awkwardly. “Thank you for helping Lars.”

Sheena for the first time seemed to acknowledge my mom. She shifted uneasily in her seat.

“It’s ... it’s nothing,” she said. She almost mumbled, immediately seeming as distant as she was when we first walked in the shop.

And ... and then things got pretty crazy.

My mom leaned forward on the table, almost like she was ... pleading with Sheena or something.

“No, really!” Mom said, her voice cracking. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done! It means the world to me!”

And Sheena gave my mom this look, this cold glare, just out of nowhere.

“I didn’t do it for _you_ ,” she muttered.

I felt my heart skip a beat. I almost wanted to say something, but I was so shocked all I managed to say was “Uhhh ...”

My mom looked like she had been hit by a truck. Any other time, someone saying that shit, my mom would have taken a swing at them. Yelled. _Something_.

But she just ... looked heartbroken.

“But ...” my mom said.

“I just did what any decent person would have done,” Sheena said, in a low voice. “I wasn’t going to just leave someone suffering _alone_.”

Sheena just stared at her as she said that. I saw my mom’s eyes tear up and I guess seeing that made me find my balls because I stood up and said,

“Hey, _don’t talk to my mom like that_!” I said.

I said this without, you know, fully thinking about the fact Sheena looked like she could kick my ass. But it didn’t matter.

She turned to me, looking embarrassed. As hard as she looked before, she seemed genuinely hurt by that.

“I ...” Sheena hesitated. “You’re right, I’m sorry, Lars. I ... I should go.” She scooted her chair back and stood up. “I need to go.”

“Huh?” I said.

My mom rose to her feet, raising her voice so loud I’m sure everyone in the shop could hear. Her voice was cracked so bad I thought she was going to lose it.

“Sheena, _please_ , don’t--”

But Sheena didn’t turn around, she just walked out the front door. I heard a motorcycle rev up outside and speed off.

My mom was frozen for a bit, didn’t move or say anything. When she realized people were staring, she just walked back to the car. I followed.

As soon as she shut the car door, she doubled over on the steering wheel bawling.

That whole thing that happened before ... that was pretty unsettling, but hearing your mom cry is like the worst fucking thing ever.

I _tried_ to give her a hug or something to make her feel better but she didn't even react.

Whenever your mom cries like _that,_ all you want to do is cry too, but I was too shaken to do anything.

She eventually stopped, and I asked her what all that was about, but she didn’t answer. Even after she wiped her eyes and started driving, she wouldn’t answer me. Wouldn’t say anything, really.

I just sat in the passenger’s side, quietly losing my shit. I mean, I don’t _know_ for sure what that was about but I _think_ I know.

Like ... it’s really freaky. Like this whole time I always wondered what happened to that kid my mom gave up and ...

Did I just _find out_?


	3. Things Are Changing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, Barracuda here. So it's been over a year since Corey and I updated this story with the final chapter, and we have to apologize because we have no other excuse other than we completely forgot about this chapter, as well as our work on "Weekend at Laramies" which we're gonna try to wrap up soon too. We've both been busy and in the chaos we completely forgot we had these stories to finish! Forgive our forgetfulness if you will, and enjoy this closing act to "Lars' Journal"!

Anyway back to my Lifetime Original movie of a life...I haven't talked to mom since this weekend. I haven't even really seen her either. 

I don't think she's even left her bed.

* * *

Maybe it's the medicine I'm on, maybe it's the fact that suicide seems to run in this goddamn family, but I freaked the fuck out for a moment thinking my mom was never going to get out of bed again or already died and I didn't know.

I went into her room, and I think I spooked her awake, because she nearly fell out of bed.

I asked her when she was getting out of bed and she asked me why I was wondering.

I don't want the last thing I ever remember her alive for as being bedridden and depressed. And I'd feel super shitty if the only reason she was staying in bed was that it was a better option than killing herself or something. And I don't want to lose my mom over something that she has to live with all her life.

I mean, I didn't tell her any of that, because it would have sounded stupid. 

I think I just told her I was hungry. 

She told me to go away.

Why am I such a brat.

* * *

Mom got up a few hours ago. She looked awful.

I said I was sorry, that it was just freaking me out that she was able to just lay in bed that long, I just wanted SOME reason for her to get up.

She said it was hard for her.

I know what it's like to lay there and want to get up, but you can't. 

I told her that.

I think it made her feel better.

* * *

Mom's asleep again, it's pretty late. 

She dozed off on the couch listening to her records, and my dad and I helped her up the stairs and into bed.

I watched her for a little bit. It's a really weird feeling, watching your mother sleep, her hair all over the pillow, and all the wrinkles on her face dark and tired and moving whenever she breathes.

I wonder how many times she did the same for me as a kid when I was asleep. 

* * *

I can't stop wondering about Sheena, and my theory that I had.

I think I know who she is, but I don't want to upset my mom any further if I ask her.

It's frustrating. 

I have to tell someone about this.

I wonder if Ronaldo is awake.

* * *

Ronaldo was awake AND fucking crazy enough to try and come to my house at 3 am so I could show him everything.

It's almost noon and he's asleep on my bedroom floor.

Right on.

* * *

Ron woke up at 2 in the afternoon told Sadie. She came over too, it's now 9 pm and we're all in my room looking at this fucking chart Ron made with all my info on Sheena. 

Ok that's it, everyone else has to stay out of this. We tell nobody else.

* * *

My dad said I'm getting an early birthday present. That probably means they spent more money on me. 

Dammit.

* * *

My present ended up being a kitten.

I'm a teenage boy, you don't give teenage boys kittens. 

Whatever. It's not like I totally cried or anything.

* * *

I guess they adopted it because my therapist said something about therapy animals.

I don't know if I'm that maladjusted.  I don't want to have to drag this thing on a leash.

I don't need people to know any more that I'm mentally ill than they do now.

* * *

Mom and dad said it's ok that I just keep the cat indoors, and that I don't need to take them everywhere.

Cool. I got a glorified pet.

* * *

Her name is Peanut, she's got orange and black patches all over, little white sock feet, and she slept on my bed all night.

It was kind of freaky waking up with something else in the bed.

Especially when they wake you up with their tongue on your face.

* * *

 

I asked my mom if it would be ok for me to go back to work next week.

She said I should wait another month.

I can't believe I'm actually starting to miss that place.

Not just Sadie but the place itself.

* * *

 

Ronaldo came over again and he cuddled Peanut while we were watching wrestling on TV.

I couldn't even see her in his arms, she's so small and he's so...not small.

It was actually really cute.

* * *

Maybe this is the pills talking or maybe I'm stupid but Ron is actually kind of cute, like, someone's gotta have a thing for chubby blonde dudes.

I know he's more annoying than pink eye sometimes, but I think I've gotten so used to it, I don't get pissed off by it anymore.

* * *

My chest hurts and my face feels warm I'm going to pet Peanut until I can get my mind off stuff; Ron, Sheena, everything. 

She fell asleep in my lap.

I actually feel a little better.

* * *

I wonder if things between me and Sadie are ok again. 

Last time we hung out it was okay, but…

I kind of wonder if I should call her and invite her over to hang.

* * *

Ok. I admit it.

This cat is really cute.

* * *

 

Why can't human babies be cute like animals are. 

A fluffy purring cat like Peanut? Cute. But a baby covered in hair and farting constantly? Disgusting. 

If I grow up and get married I don't know if I’ll have kids. I mean, I kind of would like to have kids and be a dad, but with all the mental issues running in my family? Yeah. I think I'll stick with animals. 

Living in a cardboard box with an angry cat? Ideal life.

* * *

Wow.

I just spent the last couple days writing about having a therapy kitten, and not about the acidic anxiety eating away at my stomach over my family and friendships possibly falling apart.

What progress. 

* * *

I guess one thing I do feel weird about admitting is that I’d like to be a dad when I’m older. 

I’d like to get married to someone, have babies with or adopt, raise them and call it a job well done.

It’s stupid and super cliche I know. And kids themselves irk me. But I’d love my kids because they’re mine.

But it really might not be a good idea to become a dad until I don’t constantly think about the fact I nearly went flying off a cliff because I was done with life.

It just wouldn’t be fair to any kids, for them to grow up believing their dad would be strong enough to stay alive for them when he’s not sure if that’s even the case.

* * *

Sadie came over today.

For once things weren't super awkward or anything. We just talked and stuff like we normally do. We played a couple of video games, and then she went home.

We weren't pissed at each other afterwards or anything. I actually felt pretty good after she left.

I just hope that good luck stays.

* * *

Actually there was one thing that did kind of stand out when Sadie and I hung out.

She wished me luck with Ronaldo.

I have no idea what she meant by that.

Is Ronaldo mad at me??

* * *

 

… I just realized what she meant.

Oh boy.

* * *

I DON'T HAVE A THING FOR RONALDO. I DON'T I DON'T I DON'T. 

I'M NOT ASKING HIM OUT.

* * *

 

WAIT.

DOES THIS MEAN HE'S PLANNING TO ASK  _ ME _ OUT?

* * *

WHAT DO I DO.

I JUST TEXTED SADIE ASKING HER WHAT SHE MEANT AND SHE WON'T ANSWER.

* * *

 

FUCK.

SHE THOUGHT I HAD A CRUSH ON RONALDO.

DAMN.

* * *

I don't know anymore.

Sadie fucking reads me like erotic fanfiction. She tends to figure me out faster than I do myself.

Ron's a loser but I'm not much better. I guess he's fun to hang with and he's defs not ugly…

I don't know.

Sadie won't tell me if he likes me like that or not.

It's too goddamn late at night for this.

* * *

I just found Sheena’s phone number on a piece of paper in the kitchen. I hope that she knows my mom has that number...

* * *

I guess it’s not Sheena’s after all. When I called it, Steven’s weird alien aunt picked up...I don’t know which one.

* * *

 

Wait....holy shit.

What the fresh hell do I do now. Do I call the number again, and just hope Sheena picks up or what?

* * *

My phone went off while I was getting out of the shower and I just about had a heart attack. When I picked up, Sheena was asking where the hell I got her number.

I asked her why the hell one of the gem ladies had it. She told me it wasn’t my business.

I asked if we could meet somewhere later, and she seemed cool with it.

She said not to bring my mom. Or even tell her.

I kind of took the risk, and asked her if she was related to me.

She just said she’d see me later and hung up.

* * *

If Sheena  _ is _ my half sister, I think I have the right to know.

But if I ask my mom about it, that’s gonna just make things worse.

And Sheena won’t tell me over the phone. Maybe in person. 

I guess I’m gonna have to be a little forceful about this. 

Also if I judged right, and Sheena is dating one of those gem ladies, she’s not straight. Neither is my mom.

And I’m probably not either. Go figure.

* * *

I know I’m not 100% gay. I definitely still have to think shit over about Sadie. But I’m sort of doing the same for Ron right now too. 

I guess bisexuality runs in the family. Cool.

Real talk if my dad ended up revealing some sordid love affair with a bro in high school or college, I would not be fucking surprised.

* * *

Peanut is eating my hands.

Very slowly albeit, but why else would she be using her sandpaper tongue to lick me so much.

* * *

It’s kind of nice when it’s a cold morning and you wake up to a purring baby beast.

But not when they wake you up by kneading their claws lovingly into your crotch. 

I might have screamed.

* * *

I was texting Sadie about random stuff today, and she asked me if I texted Ronaldo yet.

I’m kind of nervous now. What the fuck is gonna happen if I do?

I don’t know what’s gonna happen if I text him.

* * *

I’m meeting with Sheena this afternoon.

Whatever is with Ronaldo will have to wait.

* * *

So here’s what happened.

We went out to meet at a park just outside of town. I remembered my dad used to take me there to feed ducks, so I brought some bread.

She texted that she’d be sitting on a bench waiting for me. Sure enough I saw her not long after walking there, right in front of a pond with ducks. I’m glad it was a weekday so there was pretty much no one else around.

I felt pretty nervous. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what I was gonna ask or say.

She saw me walk up. Neither of us said anything right away.

I sat down next to her on the bench, holding my tupperware filled with bread in my lap.

“Hey,” I said finally.

I have a way with words, clearly.

Sheena looked my way and gave a hesitant smile.

“Hey Lars,” she said back.

I can see how some people might think she looked scary or whatever, but she looked pretty warm when she smiled.

I really should have just asked questions right away. That would have been the brave thing to do. But I’m not brave so I pussyfooted around for a bit.

“I uh ... I brought some bread to feed the ducks,” I said. “Dad used to take me out here to feed them when I was like a dumb baby. It was kinda nice. I’m not sure why I never came back to do it or ... yeah ...” I trailed off.

Sheena looked at me in the eye, then looked out at the ducks in the pond.

The one consolation I had was that Sheena actually seemed to be just as awkward as I was because she was quiet for a bit.

Then she said, “I think bread is supposed to be bad for them or something?”

“Really?” I said.

“Yeah uh ... I forget exactly why, but I think I read somewhere you’re not supposed to.”

I blinked. “Oh ...” I stared at the bread I brought. “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

Sheena actually snorted and covered her mouth.

“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t laugh.”

But I was actually smiling. I don’t really make people laugh that often. Mostly it’s just the opposite. It felt pretty good.

Sheena took a deep breath, then her smile faded.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Sheena asked.

I felt a knot in my stomach and said, “You mean  _ our  _ mom?”

Sheena turned and looked at me. She didn’t say anything for second, then she looked back out at the pond.

She didn’t really even have to say I was right. By this point I already knew I was.

“My  _ mom  _ is the one who raised me ...” Sheena said finally, a bitter edge in her voice.

“... okay,” I said. I guess I couldn’t really argue with her feeling that way considering ... everything.

“Where is your, you know, your mom?” I said. I felt guilty calling someone else besides my mom  _ Sheena’s  _ mom. I’m not really sure why.

“She ... died a few years ago,” she said.

“Oh. I’m uh ... I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sheena said. “It’s not your fault.”

I froze for a second. For some reason, I opened the tupperware and ate one of the piece of bread I brought for ducks. Probably did it because of how nauseous I felt.

I sighed. I figured fuck it. This whole thing would have been a waste of time if I didn’t actually ask her what I wanted to ask.

“Did you know before all this?” I asked.

Sheena hesitated then said, “Yes.”

“How long?”

“Like ten years.”

“Fuck,  _ really _ ?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her forehead. “I met you and her when I first moved out here.” She paused. “It didn’t end well. Mar- your mom...she wasn’t as happy as I thought she might be to meet me.”

“Oh ... wait,  _ what _ ?! You met  _ me  _ before?!”

“You were like seven or something.Maybe younger. You were napping in her lap most of the time.”

I shook my head. I didn’t remember that at all. I mean I thought something about Sheena seemed kinda ... comforting and familiar I guess but ... jesus, I didn’t expect that.

But I thought for a second ...

“Wait ... you just happened to move where your like ... your birth mother lived?”

Sheena shot me a look.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly cold. “ _ So _ ?”

I flinched.

“I just ... it seems like a pretty big coincidence if it wasn’t on purpose, I dunno,” I mumbled.

Sheena glanced away from me.

“Well ...” Sheena said, her face softening. “Maybe I used to ... well, maybe when I moved out here I used to want to find--” She stopped and ran her hand through her hair. “Fuck, I don’t even know.”

I didn’t press it.

“S-sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Stop apologizing!” Sheena said, raising her voice. “God. Fuck. It’s okay. I  _ wanted  _ to meet you out here, at the very least!”

“Why?”

“Cause you asked and ...” She stammered. “I dunno, you seem like an alright kid or whatever and I want to make sure you’re alright!”

I snorted.

“Wow, if you think I’m an alright kid, you reaaaaaallly don’t know shit about me,” I said.

“Well, I think you’re alright enough that I don’t want you to fucking kill yourself, yeah!” Sheena said.

That stung hard enough that the next words just tumbled out.

“I didn’t ask you to save my ass, you know!” I shouted. “I mean like why even do that if you hate my mom so much?!”

“I didn’t even recognize you at first, okay?! I was just helping a kid who was dying. But not that it matters, even if I did recognize you, I still would have done it cause  _ I don’t hate anybody, alright _ ?!”

There was an uncomfortable silence. I felt guilty for saying all the crap I said. I don’t even know why I said half of it. I could tell by the look on her face she felt the same way about the stuff she said.

Fuck, we really were related.

I ate another piece of bread cause I couldn’t think of anything to say.

Sheena looked down at the tupperware, looked at me, then slowly grabbed a piece of bread too. She ate it.

“How is it?” I asked.

“It’s bread,” she said.

“Oh.”

We glanced at each other and we both started laughing at that. Like ... really laughing. Almost doubling over. For like no reason.

Between chuckles I said, “This is really fucked up.”

“No shit,” Sheena said.

We didn’t say much for a bit after that. Just ate bread and watched the ducks.

After a bit I said I should probably head back home.

Sheena said she’d keep in touch. She sounded like she meant it.

Before I got up to ask, Sheena said, “Hey um ... so like ... your mom? Is she ... alright?”

I started to say something, but then Sheena added, “Like, no bullshit? Was she alright?”

I didn’t have the mental energy to lie.

“She seemed really upset,” I said. “I think it tore her up really bad. But she wouldn’t talk about it. She wouldn’t even tell me you were ... you know.”

Sheena considered all that and nodded.

“Okay,” was all she said.

“... are you gonna talk to her again?” I asked, “Maybe you both might feel better after you do?”

“No,” she said immediately. But then she shook her head and said. “Maybe. I don’t-- I don’t know.”

I didn’t say anything about that, because I guess I understood.

I turned to walk away, but there was still one last question in the back of my mind.

“Oh yeah, one more thing,” I said. “Are you banging one of Steven’s alien aunt things?”

Sheena’s eyes lit up as she nodded.

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Which one?”

“The hot one.”

“You mean the short one?”

“No, the skinny one.”

“Oh.”

Sheena gave a smile. I smiled back.

And then I walked home.

Not ... really sure what to think about all that just yet. It ... felt good? I guess? Even though we talked about a bunch of sad stuff.

I don’t know.

Sheena’s hard to pin down, but I like talking to her a lot.

I wonder if my mom would love knowing that or hate knowing that. I’m not really sure.

* * *

I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I asked my mom about Sheena, and she found out I went to meet her.

She wasn’t mad or upset like I thought she’d be. She just got really quiet and she hasn’t said a word since dinner.

I hope she’s okay.

* * *

...Wow okay, it’s about two AM and I can’t sleep until I write this down.

I went outside to sit on the porch before bed and my mom was there. She was smoking. And not like the medical weed I tease her about, like, actual pack cigarettes. 

I don’t know why it bothered me so much, my mom can do whatever the hell she wants. But she hasn’t smoked since I was little...and even then she managed to go cold turkey when she was carrying me, and I think she only took it up for a little while because stress and stuff.

I asked her to not smoke anymore, and she said it’s her stress making the decisions.

I didn’t want to start an argument over it with her...so I just asked her if she was mad I went to go see Sheena.

“Oh honey, of course not!”, she told me all fake and smiley like the whole thing was bothering her but she didn’t want to make a big thing of it.

I think she knew I was worried and she finally just gave up and told me things between her and Sheena were complicated and always would be. 

“Why weren’t you happy to meet her back when I was little?”

I asked that and I wished at that moment I hadn’t because I suddenly got worried my mom would start crying or something.

But she just got all calm and sat on the steps and said “It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy to meet her. I just never expected her to try and come find me. I guess I expected her to know I wouldn’t have been a good mother to her growing up. I was too young, I experimented with drugs, I was wild, and her father was not a good man, you know.”

“I know. I read about him in the journals.”

“Right. And it was wrong of me to presume Sheena would have known all of that. But I guess I was worried that when I met her, she was going to try and reconnect with not just me, but her father, and I suppose it dredges up bad memories for me.”

I guess that makes sense. Sheena was born to hippie drug fiend Martie and I was born to responsible mellow Martha. 

“Was it hard to give her up?”, I dared to ask.

“Of course it was. It’s a decision I never don’t think about. But it’s not a decision I regret. I wouldn’t have been able to give Sheena the life that I’m able to give you now.”

I didn’t really know what to say, but my mom kept talking, “If you have children someday, do it when you know you’re ready.”

“I kind of would want to have kids someday mom, but I don’t know if I ever will be ready...or at least know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll get there someday,” she told me, suddenly patting my shoulder, “If you can make it through all of this....you can make it through raising a family.”

It was a nice thought. Maybe not a realistic one, but its idealism seemed to make my mom happier. So I went along with it. 

I told her I’d consider it if she gave up smoking for good. My stress used to make decisions for me and those decisions almost killed me. I don’t want hers to do it slowly.

* * *

 

I found the rest of the cigarettes in the garbage this morning.

Guess I owe mom grandkids someday.

* * *

It's now been close to six months since I ended up in the hospital. 

This is a new journal I'm starting now.

So far, in the total scheme of things...I think they're getting better.

I gave my mom my finished journal, and she said she'd keep it safe.

* * *

I went to Ronaldo’s today to ask about whatever Sadie was badgering me about, it didn't even end up being about asking me out...technically.

Turns out, he just was going to ask me if I wanted to go to the next Delmarva-con with him. 

I’ll think on it. I sort of like those kind of things where you dress up and nobody cares. I guess that’s the big reason why I attend the Renaissance faire every year...aside from people setting things on fire and stabbing people with swords.

I’m just kind of glad he wasn’t asking me out. He’s sweet, I really don’t need to be in a relationship, with anyone at all. Maybe someday, but not now.

* * *

 

Speaking of relationship stuff...Things are ok between me and Sadie. We both sort of decided it wasn’t really a good idea for us to go back to...whatever it was that we were doing before, and we just remain friends. And I think things are way better this way. It probably comes from me trying not to catastrophize everything that goes wrong and just taking a moment to just breathe.

* * *

Mom said I can go back to school next month. For once I'm kind of glad. I can’t believe I’m actually saying I’m happy I’ll be able to go back to school and take another shot at all the stuff I was failing at before. Probably not A-grade material but at least a C+. Won’t get me into Ivy League place more than likely but community college will be better than nothing. 

I can always start some four year degree later when I’m not a teenage nightmare who still eats pizza rolls in his underwear at 2 AM. 

Maybe culinary school.

* * *

Peanut hasn't left my bedside once whenever I'm asleep. It's nice to not be alone so much.

Also Dad, if you’re reading this, you will NOT tell anyone that I was babytalking to her or playing with her feet. Because that did totally not happen, and if you tell anyone I’ll say you’re lying.

* * *

  
School starts tomorrow again for me, and I’m nervous, but I think it will be okay.

I’m just going to take it a day at a time and remember that I got through shit that a lot of other people my age probably haven’t, and I made it through.

* * *

 

My midlife crisis will be a breeze.

I think that’s a good note for me to close on. Goodnight.


End file.
